


A Thousand Stars

by janescott



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Boarding School, M/M, Pining, background zarry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-04 01:23:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2904143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janescott/pseuds/janescott
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall's been pining over Louis for what feels like forever. It's their last year at St Bede's Boarding School for Boys. Can Niall find his words in time?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Thousand Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [becka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/becka/gifts).



> For becka. One of her prompts was for a boarding school au with pining. I hope this fills the brief.
> 
> Thanks to magenta for the beta and cheerleading as always, and to red_adam for an always A+ Brit-pick. Any errors are my own.
> 
> Nothing belongs to me, I'm just dressing up the paper dolls for a bit.
> 
> Title from Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeran. The holidays make me sentimental.

Louis is already up on the roof when Niall pushes open the fire escape door, nudging the wedge of wood under the base of it before he hands up the bottles of beer he’s carrying to Louis, who’s reaching down for them.

He hears a muffled, “good lad,” before he hauls himself up the side of the building till he’s sitting beside Louis on the flat part of the roof. Louis hands him one of the bottles and they clink them solemnly before they both take a long drink.

Niall focuses very hard on the dark horizon - stars pricking through the deep blue of the sky, and not what he can see of Louis’s Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows.

They’ve both been coming up here on the first night of the new school year ever since Louis had followed Niall up here, following the sound of sniffing and snuffling; Niall homesick at 12 and Louis not knowing really what to do but pulling him in for a cuddle anyway.

They’ve been friends since - for six years - and Niall has been hopelessly and silently in love with Louis for about the same amount of time.

Now, it’s a tradition. They climb up on the roof, share a drink - juice had given way to beer when they were both 14 and Louis had sweet-talked one of the sixth formers into giving them a couple of the stash they’d hidden. 

Now, it’s Louis and Niall buying and hiding their own beers, and their dorm-mates rolling their eyes at them and shaking their heads and Harry frowning and asking Niall softly if he’s all right.

“How was home?” Louis asks finally, breaking the silence.

Niall takes a drink of his beer and shivers slightly - summer is giving way to autumn rapidly and there’s a bite in the air. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

“Were all right,” he says eventually. “Helped me da in the shop, visited Greg and that. Theo’s getting big.”

Louis nods and tips back his bottle again. “I know what you mean. Every time I go home, I swear my sisters have grown about five years. I’ll go home at Christmas and Lottie will be 35 and married with four kids.”

Niall laughs at that and shakes his head.

“Final year at secondary. Bloody hell.”

“Never thought I’d see the day, Horan. Not for myself anyway.”

Niall hums around the lip of his bottle because it was true, in a way. Louis had never been the most attentive student, but his marks last year had been so deplorable that he’d been close to being kicked out of the school, and if it weren’t for Liam and Zayn, he probably wouldn’t be here now.

The thought of it - of going through his last year at St Bede’s Boarding School for Boys without Louis - makes something knot up in Niall’s throat.

 _I’m terribly in love with you,_ he thinks, and carefully swallows the words with the last of his beer.

“Bloody cold up here,” he says out loud instead. “Ready to go in?”

“Yeah, mate. Finished me beer. Should go down before Liam comes up with his eyebrows.”

Niall laughs at that, and something eases inside of him, just for a moment. 

He’s sharing with Harry again, like he has for the past four years, and it’s good, he thinks. Much better than trying to break in someone new.

Louis is sharing with Liam, and the other member of their little circle, Zayn, has the only single on their floor.

Harry’s sprawled on his bed, wearing nothing but pants, and Niall knows the pants are a grudging concession, that Harry would be naked if he had his way, but Niall had instituted the pants rule a long time ago, and said that if Harry wanted to sprawl about naked, he could bugger off to Zayn’s room and do it.

He blinks up at Niall, smiling as he pulls his headphones out, clicking pause on whatever he’s listening to on his ipod. “All right, Nialler?”

Niall doesn’t say anything, just kicks off his trainers in the corner and crawls on to the bed, shamelessly invading Harry’s space. But Harry, who’s used to Niall and knows all of his secrets, big and small just wraps Niall up in his arms and they both lie on the bed for a bit, silent.

Niall sighs after a bit and tucks his face into Harry’s neck. The first night back after a summer at home is always hard on Niall, but he knows he’ll settle, when classes start and he can see all of his boys and he gets used to pining for a Louis who’s right in front of him, instead of just an abstract ideal that he becomes when Niall goes home to Ireland in the summer.

“Have you thought of .. talking to him?” Harry’s voice is low and he’s running a hand through Niall’s hair and it feels nice, and Niall could easily fall asleep like this but …. “I can’t. What if - what if I fuck everything up? What if - what if he doesn’t like boys and that time he kissed Liam at that party was just because he was drunk and what if, what if he doesn’t like _me_ and I couldn’t - “

Niall stops, needing to take a breath and Harry just keeps moving his hand through Niall’s hair, playing with the strands and tugging on them once in a while.

“M’not like you, Haz. I couldn’t just - stick my hand down his pants in the library and hope for the best.”

Harry squawks with indignation at that and slaps Niall’s shoulder lightly. “That’s not what happened! At least - that’s not what I did _first_. But - it worked, yeah? Talking? I didn’t know what was going to happen either, Zayn could just as easily have told me to fuck off.”

Niall shakes his head against Harry’s shoulder and sighs as he pushes himself up. “No - I mean, you both looked at each other the same way, you know? I’m pretty sure the Headmaster could see the hearts in your eyes. We all knew it was … inevitable. This … we’re friends, Louis is my _friend_ and I can’t see a good outcome from me going up to him and saying, ‘I’m terribly in love with you, please love me back and marry me and have seven babies and maybe a cat.’ It’s just. He doesn’t see me that way.”

Niall sits up then, and Harry moves with him, pressing a kiss to Niall’s cheek. “Let’s get some sleep, yeah? It’s a school night.”

Niall snorts at that and runs his hand over his face. “Sorry,” he mutters as they start moving around each other, getting ready for bed. “I didn’t mean to …. rant like that.”

“S’alright,” Harry calls from the small bathroom attached to their room, his mouth clearly full of toothpaste. “Might help you sleep, clearing your energy or something.”

“You’re such a hippie.”

“Not.”

“Are.”

The night sort of goes downhill from there but Harry’s right, damn it. Niall does feel lighter.

The thing is, school now is sort of …. terrifying. Niall is _terrified_ all of the time, and he’s not used to it. He’s used to kind of bouncing through his days and his classes and being the fun, sunshine-y bubble around his friends but bloody _hell_. 

A month in, and he’s overwhelmed, terrified and having a quiet breakdown in Zayn’s room. Zayn is sitting cross-legged on his bed as Niall curls into himself at the end of it. He’s aware, distantly, that he’s maybe being a bit dramatic, but jesus _christ_.

“What if. What if I don’t. Get through? What if. What if I fail everything horribly and I have to go back to Mullingar - not that there’s anything wrong with Mullingar, but I’d never see you or, or Harry or, or, or, anyone again and - “

“Niall.” Zayn’s voice is like a shock of cold water and Niall snaps his jaw shut, even as there’s a soft knock on the door, which is pushed open to reveal Harry, Louis and Liam. Zayn lights up when he sees Harry, and opens his arms as Harry kind of stumbles into the room and then into Zayn’s arms, pulling up his suddenly ridiculously long arms and legs until he’s kind of wrapped around Zayn on the bed and Niall can’t see where Harry ends and Zayn begins and his heart just kind of _aches_.

“Budge up, Horan,” Louis says briskly, poking at Niall until he reluctantly unfurls himself to make room for Louis who promptly collapses on top of him and pushes him about until he’s satisfied. 

Liam rolls his eyes at all of them and fetches Zayn’s beanbag from the corner, collapsing on it with an ‘oof’.

“In the closet, Liam, should be a six pack - yeah, that’s it.”

Liam drags out the six-pack of beer bottles and tears away the cardboard surrounds, handing them around.

Niall takes the bottle and pops it open with the opener Zayn keeps on his keyring and takes a long sip, grimacing slightly at the warm taste of it.

But still. It’s beer. And he’s got Louis tucked up under his arm, and well.

It could be worse.

He glances over at Zayn and Harry, wrapped up in each other at the top of Zayn’s bed; he watches how the tips of Zayn’s ears go red when Harry brushes his lips over Zayn’s cheek. How Harry ducks his head when Zayn runs his thumb over the curve of his knee and then Louis shifts slightly and Niall catches the whiff of something - fresh grass, and the hint of smoke from outside and his brain provides the picture of Louis out on the footy field, kicking a ball up down, kicking it around and generally mucking around and Niall’s heart hurts with how badly he loves him, with how heavy six years of this really is.

He lets out a sigh before he realises and feels rather than sees Louis twisting around to look at him.

“You all right Nialler? You’ve been awfully quiet tonight. Not like you at all.”

“I. Um.”

“He’s freaking out over school, is all,” Zayn says suddenly. “He’s worried he’s going to have to go off and be a butcher because he’s not going to pass his A levels.”

“It’s just. It’s. So much _work_.”

Niall holds his breath, but it’s enough to get the attention off him and on to general complaints about their coursework and their teachers and he wonders why it feels so much harder being hopelessly in love with Louis this year than it had last year.

“Probably because it’s our last year - we’re all like, proper grown-up, making proper Life Changing Decisions,” Harry says a few days later, his wise words an uncanny imitation of Mr Brown, their English teacher who had gone off on an odd tangent about Life and the Future and Decisions, which had left his class staring around at each other, wondering if lovely, dotty old Mr Brown had finally gone off the deep end. 

The effect of Harry’s sage words, however, is somewhat watered down by the fact that Harry’s upside down for no discernible reason - his legs on the bed and his head on the floor, the rest of him kind of slumping untidily in between.

“Like, this is it, you know? We’re all going off out into the world after this and like - I think it’s like - you can feel time running out on you, and all your what-ifs are kind of - “

Harry makes a vague gesture at the air with his arms and blinks up at Niall, who’s sat in a more practical position on Harry’s bed.

He pauses for a long moment before sliding down to imitate Harry’s pose, staring blankly up at the plain white ceiling. He sighs then and lets the breath out on a long, long exhale that seems to take all of the air out of the room.

“A levels,” Niall says eventually, long after Harry has wound their fingers together and the ceiling has started to blur because Niall’s not blinking enough.

“I bloody hate A levels.”

The library is freezing cold. Niall’s pretty sure he’s never been this cold in his life, and he can’t feel the tips of his fingers any more, despite the fingerless gloves his mum had sent him in her last care package.

The words of the book he’s trying to read for English keep blurring in front of his eyes, but he blinks, determined, until a familiar hand splays over the pages. Niall jumps slightly and glares at Louis who’s biting his bottom lip, trying to keep his laughter in.

“Your _face_. Oh my god, that was brilliant! What are you _doing_ in here, it’s Friday night. It’s movie night, come on.”

Niall bites his lip and rubs the back of his hand across the tip of his nose, finding obscure comfort in the scratchy wool of his gloves.

“Can’t, I can’t. I have to finish this bloody book by Monday and you know how much I love to read.”

Louis plops down beside him and snatches the book out of Niall’s hand, reading the back cover.

“I’ve already had an extension, Lou - I can’t - “

Louis pats his arm after he puts the book down on the table and sits back, sighing. They both watch in silent fascination as Louis’s breath comes out and sits on the cold air for a moment before dissipating.

“Nope, no, absolutely not. I”m not letting you stay in here and get frostbite. Bring your book if you must, and Zayn can help you or something. Or you can read it while we’re watching the movie. No man left behind, Horan. Chop, chop.”

Sighing, Niall starts to gather his things and shove them into his overburdened bookbag. He’s not too upset to be leaving and Louis is right, Zayn will help him with the book and the prospect of spending the evening watching movies and watching Liam and Zayn argue over superheroes is a vastly superior way to spend his Friday night.

Louis holds out his hand for Niall, who takes it and - later on, Niall replays it like slow-motion in his head. It feels like an out of body experience or something, but when Louis hauls him up and Niall stumbles slightly as the blood rushes back to his extremities he’s …. well, he’s awfully close to Louis, and his eyes are bright blue and his mouth …

Niall kisses him. He kisses Louis right on the mouth and for about three seconds it’s the best moment of Niall’s life before all of the reasons he hasn’t done this come rushing back and he jumps away, fumbling at the straps of his backpack.

“Niall … Niall - Niall _wait_.”

But Niall is gone, dashing through the shelves and shelves of books and where the fuck is the door, because he’s just gone and fucked up _everything_.

He finds it, finally, and barrels through it, out into the corridor and then outside and somehow he manages to send an SOS text to Harry and get to their room before he collapses completely.

“So - you kissed Louis in the library. And then you … ran off and texted me?”

Niall has his face buried in his pillow but he gives a muffled “mrph” to Harry, who’s running his hand through Niall’s hair.

“You understood all that?” 

Niall sighs into his pillow as Harry stops petting his hair to answer Zayn.

“We’ve been room-mates for four years. I’d be a bloody poor room-mate if I couldn’t speak Pillow.”

Niall puffs out a laugh and hears Zayn snort in the background.

“All right, you weirdo. I’m going to go and tell Liam that movie night is off and … should I see if I can find Louis if he’s not with Liam?”

“Yeah, babe. Thanks. I’m gonna stay here with Niall.”

Niall keeps his eyes closed, letting the familiar noises of Harry and Zayn and then just Harry moving around the room soothe him and calm him down a bit.

By the time Harry has crawled into bed with him and wrapped his arms around his waist, Niall is improbably, nearly asleep. 

In the six years he and Louis have been at school together, Niall has never, ever, ever avoided Louis for any reason. Even when Harry had come along four years ago and Louis had been jealous because he thought Harry was going to steal his best friend.

Even then, they’d worked around each other, until Harry - and a bit later Zayn and Liam - had become so interwoven in the fabric of each others lives that Niall genuinely doesn't know how they’re all going to cope after sixth form is done.

But now … now Niall is actively avoiding Louis and it sucks about as much as he thought it would. He’s either with Harry and Zayn, or he’s with Liam, and he knows that Louis is doing the same, and Niall just doesn’t know what to _do_.

He avoids the roof, because he knows that Louis will go looking for him there, and he avoids the football pitch and the cafeteria and changes his seat in the classes that he and Louis share, keeping his head down and being uncharacteristically quiet.

He’s back in the library - one bright spot out of all of this is that he’s keeping up with his coursework, but Niall’s pretty sure the trade-off of not having his best friend by his side isn’t really worth it.

Sighing, he opens his maths book and frowns down at the first problem. At least with maths he knows exactly where he is.

“You should talk to him.” 

Niall jumps, and his pens and papers scatter all over the library floor. He gives Liam his best glare before ducking down to pick everything up. Liam slips out of his chair to help, returning everything to the table and sorting Niall’s pens out by colour, absently.

“I - I don’t know what to say,” Niall says, when Liam has let the silence stretch out. “I kissed him, and then ran off and I’ve made everything weird and _terrible_.”

Niall’s shocked to find out that he’s close to tears. He takes a deep, shuddery breath and stares very hard down at the scored and scratched wood of the table that keeps fuzzing out as tears blur his vision.

“Hey - come on. It’s Louis, yeah? He’s still your best mate, and he’s worried about you.”

Liam’s voice is low and it’s kind of soothing, and then he starts rubbing Niall’s back and that’s - it feels nice, even though Harry’s basically been a giant human pillow for Niall the past few nights, climbing into his bed and wrapping himself around him till they both fall asleep.

Harry, Niall thinks now as Liam keeps rubbing his back, may actually have the best boyfriend in the world. He says as much to Liam, who laughs softly.

“Yeah, Zayn’s a good ‘un. And so are you, Nialler, yeah?”

“I just. He’s my best friend, Liam. What if I lose him?”

“Niall, I’m not trying to be … mean, but what d’you call this?”

Niall turns his head from where he’s pillowed it on his arms on the table and gives Liam a half-hearted glare.

“He misses you, Niall, and he’s worried about you, and we’re all kind of tired of - of being your friend in shifts.”

Liam gives him a small smile then and says, “We want to put the band back together. And - worst case scenario? Louis will still be your best friend. He does love you, you know.”

Niall nods, unable to speak past the knot in his throat.

He knows, he does, that Liam is right - about everything. “It’s just - I mean, I know you’re right, but what if he - he does - turn me down? I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Liam sighs, and squeezes Niall’s shoulder. 

“Just - talk to him, yeah? Whatever happens, we’ll all be there for you both.”

The thing with good advice is that it’s easy to hand out, and sort of easy to hear, but _acting_ on it is another story. He just. It’s been _weeks_ and it’s getting colder and he just doesn’t know what to _do_.

“What you do is,” Harry says from his own bed where he’s stretched out on his front while Zayn draws on his bare back with sharpie - “is you go and knock on his door and say ‘hey Louis, I’m sorry for being a massive twat, can I kiss you again and maybe marry you and adopt lots of babies after uni?’”

Niall throws a pillow at him and earns a “Hey!” from Zayn when it steers his pen off course. Harry starts and giggles when Zayn pokes him in the ribs and Niall just collapses back on his bed, letting out a loud, dramatic sigh.

He forces himself up and watches Harry and Zayn for a moment - watches the way Zayn’s tongue pokes out as he draws an intricate … something in the dip of Harry’s back, just above the trackies he’s got on, slung low. Harry’s head is resting on his folded arms and he’s looking at Niall, a small, quiet smile on his face.

“Ugh. I’m going to the library. You two are _disgusting_.”

“You love us!” Harry shouts after him as Niall slams the door. He rolls his eyes because yes he does, but … ugh.

He stops by the noticeboard outside the library and skims over the various pieces of paper, starting slightly when he sees the one announcing the semi-annual dance is coming up - on Saturday night. 

Niall rolls his eyes because he knows that Harry will make him go, and it’s all right - kind of - they get shoved into the gym with the girls of the same year from St Brigid’s down the road - as if the teachers honestly believe the dances each winter and spring are the only time the students from each school see each other - but it’s the last thing that Niall wants to be dealing with.

The theme, he notices, is “ugly holiday jumpers” and he figures he can just borrow one from Harry. He’s getting good, at least, at resigning himself to his fate.

Niall tucks himself away in a corner of the library, pulls out bloody bloody bloody Shakespeare, and resigns himself to a long afternoon with Hamlet.

Hamlet, Niall concludes, after he’s battled his way through about a quarter of the play itself, is an arse. A wishy-washy, cowardly arse.

And yes, he knows what irony is, thanks to Zayn and Steve Buscemi in Con Air. He just. He shoves it back and automatically turns the other way when he sees Louis and Zayn walking in his direction, heading for the football field he thinks, even though it’s cold enough to freeze his balls off.

Harry, true to form, has a selection of blindingly ugly jumpers lined up on Niall’s bed when he gets back to their room. Niall stares at them, mute and then stares at Harry who’s sporting - 

“Are you wearing reindeer antlers you mad bastard?”

And Harry - who should be ashamed, probably, of about 95% of the shit he does, just grins until his dimples pop out. Then he pouts and says, “Zayn refuses to have sex with me with them on, I think it’d be fun.”

“Of course you do,” Niall says, picking up a vile lime-coloured jumper from the pile. It’s got what looks like rows of puffins knitted into the fabric, but it’s surprisingly soft. Sighing, he holds it up and says, “I’ll take this one.”

Harry slaps him on the back and sweeps the rest of them into his arms.

“Good man! I told Liam I’d lend him one, too. I’ll see you later.”

“Or tomorrow,” Niall says, smiling. 

“You sure? I can stay if you want …”

Niall shakes his head and sighs, shoving his hand through his hair. “Nah, I’ll be all right. Go spend the night with your boy, yeah? But first - “

Niall reaches up and swoops the antlers out of Harry’s hair, holding them out of his way when Harry makes a grab for them.

“This is for your own good, Harry. I’ll give them back for the dance, I promise.”

Harry’s pout would do a two-year-old proud but he sighs and shuffles off, the prospect of spending the night with Zayn outweighing even his love for ridiculous hair ornaments.

True to his word, Niall hauls out the antlers from under his bed just before the dance, and arranges them among Harry’s curls himself. Harry’s jumper is a particularly violent shade of purple and it’s covered in what appear to be even more lurid orange stars. Niall kind of wants to put sunglasses on to look at it, but Harry looks so happy that he can’t bring himself to mock.

Besides, he’s wearing the puffin jersey and he’s in no position to make fun of anyone.

Liam, Niall knows from Harry, is going with Louis, and he’s attaching himself shamelessly to Harry and Zayn. He’s aware he’s not going to get through the whole night unscathed, and he knows he really needs to talk to Louis before everything goes tits up between them permanently, but still.

Niall is determined to enjoy his last few moments of cowardice.

He watches, amused as Harry tries to talk Zayn into wearing reindeer earrings and a red fur-trimmed hat, but Zayn has folded his arms and seems determined to resist all of Harry’s pleading, even though Harry has brought out the big guns - the Bambi eyes and the dimples and the most impressive pout Niall has ever seen on anyone. 

He watches them like a tennis match, managing to keep his laughter stifled as Zayn repeats “No, Harry,” patiently. 

Harry puffs out an exaggerated sigh and gives Zayn one last, best pout, before throwing himself dramatically on the bed. “ _Fine_. Grinch.”

Niall rolls his eyes and helps Zayn drag Harry to his feet.

“Come on,” he says, still biting back laughter. “Let’s get this over with.”

Zayn’s wearing one of Harry’s old jumpers that’s not ugly as such, but it’s worn and has holes in the elbows and along the hem. Niall’s surprised that Harry managed to get Zayn to concede to the theme even that much, but doesn’t ask how he did it. Even as close as Niall and Harry are, there is still such a thing as too much information.

Niall grips at Harry’s elbow, pinching him slightly to get his attention.

Harry just rubs his thumb over Niall’s knuckles and says, “It’ll be all right Nialler yeah. No matter what, Louis loves you.”

Niall doesn’t say anything, but accepts the comfort offered when Harry wraps an arm around his shoulders before they head into the gym, decked out with fake snow and creepy stand-up Santas.

There’s a DJ up on the stage, but so far the music is quiet, a running undercurrent. The dance tonight is for the senior school - the fifth and sixth formers, and Niall knows that they’ll be back here in the morning, setting everything back in it’s place for the junior school’s dance.

He smiles to himself as he follows Harry and Zayn to a table, reaching out for the jug of no doubt horrible punch that’s sweating slightly in the middle. He absently fills five paper cups and then shakes his head when he realises.

“They’ll be along soon anyway,” Zayn says, nudging at Niall’s shoulder. Niall just nods and downs a cup of it without thinking, grimacing at the overly sweet fruit taste.

“At least wait till I’ve been able to spike it, Niall, that stuff is vile,” Harry says, producing a small flask from god-knows-where and tipping most it into the jug before emptying it into the cups Niall has already filled. He spirits it away again, and Niall thinks that Harry actually is magic. The booze doesn’t do much to improve the flavour, Niall thinks, pouring another drink for himself, but at least it disguises the sweetness.

He’s glad of it when he looks up and catches sight of Liam and Louis coming into the gym. One of the girls - Niall thinks her name is Sophia - detaches from her group of friends, and heads for Liam just as Louis looks up and catches Niall’s eye.

It’s like a dumb movie. Everything fades into the background - the music, the chatter - even Harry earnestly plying Zayn with alcohol so he can persuade him to wear Harry’s reindeer horns - _everything_.

Louis is wearing a soft-looking dark blue jumper that only makes the “ugly” brief because of the row of bright red stick-figures knitted around the hem of it.

Niall feels a nudge on his shoulder and snaps out of his trance to find Harry looking at him. Zayn, improbably, is wearing the antlers and beaming at Harry like he’s personally responsible for putting the sun in the sky.

“Go on, go talk to him. Now or never, Nialler.”

Niall just nods, pours another drink. finishes it in one large gulp and makes his way across the room to where Louis is just standing and watching him.

He’s vaguely aware of Liam and Sophia going past on their way to Harry and Zayn, but apart from that, the room has narrowed to one focal point, who’s looking at him with a raised eyebrow, his eyes a deep, dark blue, reflecting the colour of the jumper he’s wearing.

Niall has no idea what to say. He stands in front of Louis, and he’s completely tongue-tied. Again.

“C’mon Nialler. Let’s get out of here for a bit. Talk, yeah?”

“I - yeah. Okay.”

Louis reaches out and winds their fingers together, and his hands are cold, but Niall’s pretty sure that’s not why he shivers.

They go up to the roof, because it’s their spot and it’s what they do, and Niall lets out a long breath and a shaky laugh all at once, tilting his head back to the sky for a minute, feeling himself settle back into his skin.

There’s a blanket, Niall notices when he turns back to Louis, and two bottles of beer, and a plate of what looks like ham sandwiches.

Niall just stares at Louis and blinks, still not really knowing what to say except - “I’m sorry. I”m so sorry, I kissed you, and I panicked because you’re my best friend and I”ve been in love with you for so long and - “

He’s grateful when Louis cuts him off - pretty effectively - by pressing his cold lips to Niall’s own. And then - he doesn’t run away and they’re kissing _properly_ this time, Louis is kissing him with _intent_ and - 

“I’m the world’s biggest idiot aren’t I,” Niall says, when they finally pull apart. He presses the pad of his thumb to Louis’s bottom lip - red and swollen and perfect. Louis grins around it and bites at it lightly.

“Maybe. Maybe we both are.” He shivers and looks at the blanket and the food. “I thought a picnic up here would be - nice, or romantic, or like, a good way to say, ‘I wouldn’t mind if you kissed me again for a bit - forty or fifty years should do it’ - but it’s bloody freezing.”

Niall just laughs, loud and bright because he _can_. “You doughnut,” he says nudging Louis. “Come on.” Niall picks up the blanket and settles against the wall that rises up above this part of the roof. He wraps half of it around himself, and grabs one of the sandwiches.

Louis grins again and curls into Niall, wrapping the blanket around both of them, and Niall is so ridiculously happy he may actually burst. He says as much to Louis, who simply kisses him again, and again, and again, until they’re both breathless and laughing with it.

“C’mon, Nialler. Want to dance with you.”

Niall snorts at that but lets Louis haul him to his feet. “You mean you want to see if Harry’s managed to decorate those bloody antlers Zayn’s wearing with tinsel and ornaments.”

Louis tugs him close, wrapping an arm around his back and Niall steadies his own hands on Louis’s hips.

“How about both?”

Louis Tomlinson is the most ridiculous boy Niall has ever met (apart maybe from Harry) and Niall is terribly, awfully, permanently in love with him. 

And now that he can - Niall kisses his ridiculous, perfect boy again, just as the snow starts to fall.


End file.
